Teach Me K-Pop

CHAPTER TWELVE

JASE

I have a cramp in my hand.

I don’t think I’ve had to sign that many papers since I bought my house. Actually, I don’t think committing myself to be poor forever with a mortgage was even as labor intensive.

I give the pen back to the very serious man standing next to me, who hovered by my shoulder the entire time I was writing my name over and over.

As soon as Nikko and the other members had been corralled to head toward the stage, I assumed I would make my way to my seat and watch the show.

I was wrong.

Instead, I’d had a small forest worth of paper shoved in my direction and gotten pointed toward a chair as an extremely solemn-looking guy frowned and told me I should have had to do this well before I ever started talking to Nikko.

Giving him my best “I’m a professional” smile, I’d assured him that everything Nikko and I had talked about was strictly confidential and they had nothing to worry about. He’d dropped the pen in front of me without a word, waiting for me to start signing.

And I did. Because at this point, I would do pretty much anything to be able to stay in contact with Nikko.

I know I should have read the details more carefully—I’m sure Kija would probably have more than a few things to say about the way I skimmed over most of the entirely-in-Korean pages—because I know these non-disclosure agreements are intense. I’ve heard way too many stories about what the company has insisted trainees—potential idols—to say “yes” to in order to begin working for the chance to debut.

It’s entirely possible I actually just gave Task Force access to my whole life and probably my soul, but it seems like a pretty fair trade. They can have whatever they want of me if it means I can keep having chances for Nikko to look at me the way he did as Ryo literally pulled him out the door when they had to go.

We hadn’t gotten to really say much to each other; it was too hectic, there were too many people, and some of the members were far too interested in teasing Nikko and giving me what I believe were supposed to be vaguely threatening once-overs.

After grumpy suit dude scans all the papers, looking for my signature on each one, he turns abruptly and walks away, leaving me alone in the green room. I’m surrounded by an absolute disaster, and I feel legitimately bad for whoever has to make sense of it all to pack it back up.

But I’m not about to stand around and contemplate this mess when I can hear the rumble of the show starting. The sounds of shrieking and the poppy beat of “ Brooklyn ” get louder as I sprint toward the mezzanine seating level to try to find the section my ticket is for.

Everything goes dark as soon I step into the arena, and I have to stop. Partially not to trip over something or someone, but mainly because RYSING has just taken the stage. I glance up at the gigantic screens hovering above, and from the second I catch sight of Nikko’s face, I know I won’t be able to see anything else.

???

Forcing myself to leave my seat and sneak back to the green room before the show ended was an epic feat. I didn’t want to look away from the stage or the screens, I just wanted to keep watching.

But I was so far from Nikko there, surrounded by other screaming fans who all wanted his attention. Walking away from them meant walking toward him, being close to him again. Maybe we could even have a real conversation.

I’d been hopeful I would be able to steal him away for at least a few moments, to spend a little bit of time the two of us. But after the sheer craziness before the show, I wasn’t so sure that was in the realm of possibility. Nikko had mentioned that sometimes there were still responsibilities after they were done performing—meet and greets with radio station contest winners or people granted privileges by the company. I didn’t know if that was the case tonight, or if it would be me vying for his attention while his brothers kept interrupting. I appreciate the way they look after him and so obviously care about him. But they see him every day. And I don’t. I want—I need —to take advantage of whatever time I can spend with him.

Slipping through the same double doors I’d used earlier, I take a seat in the corner of the room. As I look around, I realize that everything is somehow miraculously much neater than it had been when I left. I see garment bags draped over nearly every surface with spray bottles of vodka nearby, each one labeled with a member’s name. I know—only because Nikko told me—that the vodka is used to spray down their delicate stage clothing that can’t be washed all the time, as a way to preserve the custom designer outfits. There are also ice buckets of water and beer set up next to a buffet line of snacks, all waiting for the group to come off-stage and dig in to the refreshments.

The amount of energy and effort the six of them expend on stage is truly phenomenal. Watching them go non-stop for two hours made me tired, just looking at it happening. I have no idea how they do it, night after night. The way they have to love what they do—and who they do it for—is incredible.

About one second before the door bursts open, I feel the change in the air—like everything suddenly becomes electrified. And then there they are, stumbling through the stage exit, tripping over each other while they start yanking their clothes off.

As shirts are flying, I look for Nikko, but I can’t deny my eyes stray to Chita’s abs more than once. Because… damn . I guess it’s some sort of karma that I catch a glimpse of Nikko just as he’s pulling his t-shirt down, with only the briefest flash of his side still peeking out before he yanks it towards his hips.

But I am instantly unconcerned with what I missed, because he starts walking toward me as soon as he realizes I’m there.

His smile is so bright, so wide, it’s overwhelming to have right in front of me, no screens or pixels to dim the full effect. “Did you see? What did you think?” he asks excitedly.

Grinning back, I’m just about to answer when the other members start crowding around.

“Good, right?” Ryo prompts, his English much more heavily accented than Nikko’s. But then he seems to remember something. “Best show you’ve ever seen! Tell me. You can tell me. I know it’s true,” he says, having switched to rapid-fire Korean.

I laugh and respond affirmatively, also in Korean, assuring him it was indeed the best concert I’ve ever seen.

Language barrier now lowered, the rest of the group seems to have an endless supply of questions for me about everything except what I saw on stage. I try to focus on who is inquiring about what—including my intentions for Nikko. So I guess we’re just jumping right in, then. It makes me curious again, though—wondering what he’s told them about me, what they know about our relationship.

I glance over at him, his eyes closed as he shakes his head slowly, muttering quiet curses about the others under his breath. I can’t help but laugh; the sibling vibe is so real and so very strong.

It’s obvious that Ryo and Tang are the instigators, Lux and Chita are nosey but in a more cautious way, while Lalo stands back and listens to everything, subtly reaching to give Nikko’s shoulder a squeeze.

Nikko nudges Lalo with his elbow, and they exchange a quick smile before turning their attention back to me. I immediately decide that Lalo is my favorite—the quiet care he shows for Nikko warms my heart.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough,” Chita says in English, after I’ve made an attempt to answer most everything they threw at me. He gives Ryo and Tang a pointed look before adding in Korean, “We don’t want to scare him off before Nikko even gets to spend any time with him.”

Tang snorts. “I think that would be more effective if he did not understand what we were saying.”

I perk up at the sound of his speech; his satoori is so distinct I feel like I’m right back in South Korea, trying to figure out which accent was from what region. I have no idea where Tang lived before moving to Seoul, but I’m pretty sure that I can identify several places that he’s not from.

The rest of the group disperses toward the food and drinks, but Nikko stays behind, taking a step closer to me.

“Hi,” he says, softly, like he’s shy again.

“Hi,” I reply, trying not to get spooked now, too. “They’re hilarious.”

Nikko rolls his eyes. “I am sorry about them. They have been very…” He pauses, searching for the right word. Probably trying to be polite. “Excited. They have been excited to meet you.”

I chuckle. “It’s nice to meet them. Seeing them like this, it’s kind of crazy they’re the same guys that were just up there on stage. Even as silly as they were, it’s, uh, more intense face to face.”

“I know. I kept telling them not to do that, but they do not listen,” he says, sounding very much like a younger brother.

I notice how calm the room seems all at once, with the other members wrapped up in their snacks and cell phones. They’re leaving us alone, I know. Though I can see Chita glancing this way, keeping an eye on what we’re doing even as he pretends he’s not.

Nikko and I had discussed the potential for us to escape for a bit after the show, but it had never been a definite thing. He had to ask for permission, and I had needed to sign my life away first, promising to never speak a word of anything I had seen or heard while I was with him or anyone else associated with RYSING.

For the first time, I feel a little awkward with him. I don’t know if I should ask about going somewhere else or if I should wait for him. Maybe he’s not even interested at this point. And that’s fine. I’d be disappointed, for sure, though. I want to spend time with him, I know that. But then I’m wondering, would this be a date? I haven’t been on a date in far longer than I’d like to admit, and this seems like a hell of a way to jump back in. What does one even do on a date with a global superstar?

Fuck. Now I really am nervous.

Nikko’s dark eyes flicker up to meet mine for a second before he leans in toward me. “Do you want to... can we go somewhere?”

I nod. “Yes. Whatever you want.”

“I want to talk to you,” he tells me. “But only me and you.”

“I want that, too.” The words have barely left my mouth when he strides away, walking with purpose toward a group of people who look older—and perhaps more business-like—than the rest of those milling around.

I don’t know what to do with myself, so I wait, looking around the room at the rest of the members as they refill plates and try to eavesdrop on Nikko’s conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, Nikko’s wearing a baseball cap from our local team to “blend in,” and has been granted freedom for a couple hours, with the promise to stay within sight of the security guard who will be going with us and return to the hotel by a specified curfew. It’s more than I’d dared hope for, so I’m completely satisfied by this turn of events.

The other guys yell various kinds of goodbyes to both of us as we walk toward the exit, Nikko completely ignoring them while I stop to wave and promise I’ll be good to him. Even if I have no idea what we’re actually going to do. There’s a nondescript van waiting outside to take us somewhere, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m not even entirely sure where we could go that wouldn’t draw any attention.

Nikko watches as I glance around, trying to figure out what’s nearby. I don’t come to this part of the city enough to be super familiar with it. “I do not care where we are. I just want to be there with you.”

I almost feel the need to press my hand to my chest, like it’s going to keep my heart in place. I just can’t handle the things he says sometimes. The sincerity and honesty that he expresses so easily are so much. I’ve never had that, but I want to keep it—keep him —so badly. Somehow, my brain recovers enough from his latest devastating declaration to come up with an idea. I grab my phone for a quick search, and I’m happy to see that I was correct—there is a place Tyler has told me about before not too far away that should be perfect, where literally no one is going to notice or care who he is.

I tell the bored-looking van driver the address and he raises an eyebrow. “I was gonna head there after my shift. Guess I’ll go now.”

The fact that it’s his kind of place reassures me. Nikko follows me as I hop in and situates himself so closely that our thighs are touching and the entirety of my focus narrows to the warmth radiating off his body against mine. I’m thankful the security guy seems to want to stay as far away from whatever is going on between us as he possibly can, glancing out the window and staring at the lights.

It’s a short ride to the hole-in-the-wall bar, and as we walk in, not a single person so much as glances our way, all too caught up in the game that is showing on each of the last-decade tvs set up around the dingy room. I can hear Nikko giggling behind me as his feet stick to the floor with each step we take toward the back of the room, where we settle into a darkened booth. Security man takes a seat at the end of the bar, close enough to keep a watch on Nikko, but far enough away he’s not going to hear any of our conversation.

Over the next few hours, we talk about everything and nothing, laughing into our drinks, then stopping to stare at each other like we can’t believe this is really happening. Even as the time passes, it feels like I’m caught in some sort of alternate reality where I can just hang out with him, where he’s solidly in the seat next to me.

Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. Like I need to prove something to myself, I reach over and slip my hand around his. He’s real. This is happening. His fingers slot between mine and stay there as we keep talking, our conversation scattered all over the place, bouncing from one thing to another.

There are moments as I speak that I swear Nikko’s eyes drop to my mouth. More than once, it causes me to stumble over my words as I wonder if he’s thinking about kissing me as often as I am thinking about kissing him. Even when we make eye contact, his gaze is intense, enough to make my heart skip a beat as I try to remember what I was saying.

I have no idea how much time has passed when our chaperone catches our attention and nods toward the door. It looks like he’s taking care of the tab when we walk by, and he follows us out, shaking his head at the van driver from earlier who is now well past tipsy. Nikko thanks him as we get outside onto the sidewalk and asks him if we can step away just a bit.

The man scowls but nods anyway, and Nikko takes my hand again, pulling me around the corner of the building into a narrow not-quite-alley.

“No one even cared I was there,” Nikko marvels. “That was so cool.”

“That’s not entirely true, though. I cared you were there,” I say. Cheesy as it may sound, I’m being honest.

Nikko smiles, but it’s small, almost coy. “I did not notice anyone but you anyway.”

“I can’t really imagine noticing anyone but you ever again.” I’m captivated by the way his eyes hold the light from the streetlamps that barely shine where we’re standing, and I find myself reaching to adjust the brim of his hat so I can see them better. He’s watching me closely, barely breathing as I tuck some of his hair behind his ear after it got messed up from moving his cap.

Nikko looks at me for just a second and swiftly turns his ball cap around backward. There’s one heartbeat of hesitation before he leans in, his hand slipping around my neck to pull me closer.

I gasp, surprised, as his lips meet mine. This isn’t the slow, sweet kiss I’ve been daydreaming about since I first found myself staring at Nikko’s perfect mouth through the computer screen. There’s something needy about it—even in his inexperience, it feels insistent, like this is necessary for his survival. Maybe it is. I think it might be for me. I want this kiss—this moment, this man—more than I want any of my next breaths.

He pulls away just far enough to look at me, to check in. It’s another bold move for him, and as hot as I find his courage, I’m also proud of him, and so deeply pleased he feels comfortable enough with me to do these things. I can’t even let myself ponder what it might mean—if he wants me the way I want him—because this is enough for now. More than enough.

Going in for another kiss, I nip gently at his plush lower lip and he whimpers, chasing after me to close the barely-there distance as soon as it’s created. I don’t resist. Now that I know what it’s like to kiss Nikko, I don’t know how I’ll ever want to do anything else.

“Yeah?” I ask as he whines softly against me. I dip my head to nose along the sharp line of his jaw. He smells good—too good—a little bit of sweat from the show and some kind of cologne, maybe. Whatever it is, it’s sexy.

“Yes,” Nikko breathes, fingers twisting in my shirt to keep me close as he tilts his head, letting me explore.

I can’t stop the groan that escapes when Nikko shivers as I give his earlobe a nibble, careful to avoid his jewelry. His whole body trembles, and my mind is suddenly filled with a thousand ideas of everything I want to do to make him quiver and beg.

Gently, I guide him backward a step or two, until his back is against the brick facade of the building and I know we’re totally hidden in the shadows.

Nikko moans when he makes contact with the wall, his hands sliding around my waist, holding on tightly to me. His grip makes me brave, and I tease him with the tip of my tongue until he opens up in a silent request for more. The sound that escapes his throat as the kiss deepens will stay with me until I die, as will the desperate way he tugs me closer to keep me where he wants me—chest to chest, hip to hip.

I kiss him until I’m dizzy with it—the taste of him too much and still somehow not enough. I break away only when I have to, my hands on either side of Nikko’s face as we both pant into the small space between us. I can feel each shaky breath he takes and the erratic rhythm of my own heart as well as his, pounding against each other. This feels like one of those moments that will define who I am from here on out.

Everything that I think I could ever want is right here, in my arms, staring back at me with those intoxicating, galaxy eyes full of lust and wonder. Nikko is a dream, made of all the best of the things I didn’t know I could even hope for. I bow my head, tipping forward to kiss him again, lush and leisurely, because I can, with Nikko wrapped around me like he has no intentions of letting go.

When I feel him smile against my lips, I’m pleased by the idea that he’s happy right now, right here, with me. That this experience—a first for him—could give him the same kind of giddy excitement I feel bubbling up behind my ribs, dancing around in my chest.

“I wish I could stay with you all night,” Nikko whispers, his voice quiet in the echo of a car rushing by on the street. I’m so surprised by what he said, it takes me a moment to realize it was in Korean.

I know he can’t be out much longer, and despite what parts of my body might be telling me, spending the night together in any kind of sexy way feels like too big of a leap immediately after a first kiss. But that doesn’t mean I won’t think about it the entire drive home.

Brushing my thumb across his cheek, I give him one more kiss, sweet and chaste. I still want to be honest with him as I admit, “I wish you could, too.”

“I have to get back, though.” He looks almost pouty, and it’s so cute I can’t stand it.

I pull my phone out and tap the app to get us a ride to the hotel where they’re staying. “We have about five minutes…”

He doesn’t even give me a chance to finish the sentence before he’s got his hands on the back of my neck, reeling me in to kiss me again.

? ??

Pulling up to the hotel, it’s immediately obvious that the fans have figured out the group is staying here. There’s no way he can get out of this car with me in the back and not cause some sort of major scene. Security guy quickly texts someone as he tells our very confused driver in very abrupt English to circle around the block to the back of the hotel.

Moments later, someone is swinging open an “employees only” gate in a dark section of the street and waving him in. Our third wheel gets out, and I ask the driver to hold on a moment. I still need a ride back to my car at the arena, but I want to tell Nikko good night.

I know I can’t kiss him again with other eyes watching, but I do grab his hand as inconspicuously as I can. “Tonight was amazing.” It’s not sufficient, but I honestly don’t know that I could come up with the right words to tell him how wonderful this has been.

He nods, smiling. “It was perfect. But I knew it would be.”

“Nikko…” I stop even trying to figure out what to say and just smile back.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” he asks, expectant and hopeful.

“Yes. Of course. Absolutely.”

I watch him disappear through the service entrance with a wave and turn back to the car.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.